


burnt bread and romance

by oh_no_oh_dear



Series: tungle dot hell [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Sam deserves to be looked after and fussed over, Steve Rogers cannot cook in any of my fics ever the end, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Sam/Steve + "appreciate"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Steve's gonna take care of Sam, dammit, SIT DOWN WILSON. (this is a little baby ficlet I know I know)

    “It’s fine,” Sam said as he eased himself onto the worn couch. Steve could afford expensive, luxurious furniture if he’d been so inclined, but it seemed wasteful when there was perfectly comfortable second-hand stuff to be had for much less.  
  
    “It’s not _fine_ , you took a direct hit. I should’ve been there--”  
  
    “Me and my ribs know where I got hit, Steve,” Sam scoffed, wincing as he moved the wrong way. The bandages around his midsection were stiff, stark white against his brown skin. The angry red of his injury was just barely visible at the edges of the bandage, and Steve fought every instinct not to go haring after the A.I.M. agent who’d blasted Sam point-blank with some experimental laser.   
  
He wanted to _murder_  the coward. Instead, he poured his anxiety into fussing over Sam.   
  
    “At least let me get you painkillers.”  
  
    “I’m not due for another 3 hours.”  
  
    “Water?”  
  
Sam silently held up his full water bottle, unable to hide another flinch. The healing gel that the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors had applied would speed up the process, but it would still be a couple of rough weeks.  
  
    “Are you hungry?”  
  
    “You cookin’?” Sam asked, doubt written clearly on his face. Steve smirked, knowing that he was somewhat infamous for making food that was described as ‘burnt water,’ ‘a food-like substance’ and ‘a blatant assassination attempt.’  
  
    “Just grilled cheese.”  
  
    “I can handle that. But... Steve, I really don’t need all of this fuss. Just prop me up near some ramen packets and leave the painkillers in reach.” Sam smiled, but it was tired and a little pained. Steve frowned slightly. Sam always laughed off his own problems, focused as he was on helping others, and Steve had realized something very important recently.  
  
It was going to be a little bit awkward to explain to his friend that he was in love with him, though.  
  
    “You might not _need_ the fuss, but when was the last time someone took care of you?”  
  
    “The doctors--”  
  
    “I don’t mean just that. I mean... someone to look after you.” _Someone like me._  
  
Sam made a movement like a shrug, but then seemed to think better of it.  
  
    “Just let me do this for you, Sam. Let me show my--” _Love._ “--appreciation. You’ve been working your ass off lately.”  
  
    “No more than any one else.”  
  
    “Sit down and put on the Internetflix, Sam. That’s an order.”  
  
Sam laughed pretty hard, pausing to groan in pain now and then.  
“In.. internetflix...”  
  
    “Is that not right?” Steve asked, perplexed. He was _pretty sure_ that’s what it was called.  
“Ahh, it doesn’t matter. Sit down, relax, and I’ll have something for you to eat soon.”  
  
    “ _Yes, dear,”_ Sam joked. Steve felt a hot flush creeping up his neck. Sam hadn’t been serious, but that had felt nice. Being called ‘dear.’  
  
    “Is it so bad? Me wanting to do this?” Steve asked, his voice a little quieter. Sam was scrolling through the choices on Netflix, distracted.  
  
    “Dunno. Usually a girlfriend or my ma that fusses over me like this,” Sam replied, glancing over with a raised eyebrow.  
  
    “Would that... would that be so bad? If it was like that?” Steve was looking very carefully over Sam’s head, at the sun sinking outside. He couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. It was out, and he couldn’t take it back.  
  
    “If it was like you being my ma, or...?” There was a teasing edge to Sam’s voice, but he had turned carefully in his seat so he could look properly at Steve.  
  
    “Definitely ‘or.’”  
  
Sam was frowning slightly. “You asking me out, Cap?”  
  
    “You saying yes?”  
  
    “Depends on how good this grilled cheese is.”  
  
(The grilled cheese was terrible. The tentative kiss that Sam pressed to the corner of Steve’s mouth was wonderful.)  



End file.
